The Treachery of Tashbaan
by Rendareth
Summary: This is the story of a Calormen's conquest of Narnia. It is set a few years after the fall of the White Witch. Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy will have to fight for the freedom of Narnia against enemies new and old. Rated T for violence. Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Tashbaan, one year after the defeat of the White Witch_

The streets of Tashbaan were crowded as usual, and the rotting stench of waste mingled with the smell of spices and exotic foods which drifted up from the city streets. Beggars pleaded for alms in the streets while the tarkaans and tarkheenas of Tashbaan were carried along on litters. Great towers rose from the streets, and the sparkle of gold was seen everywhere, but not all was as peaceful as a casual onlooker might assume. War was brewing in Tashbaan.

All the great tarkaans of Calormen had been gathered together by the Tisroc for reasons that they themselves could only guess, and while all of the commotion of the city clamored above, and people went on with their lives, a secret counsel was gathered in a place deep under Tashbaan. The secret counsel room had been constructed long ago when Calormen first rose up from the sand of the desert. It was carved into a vein of rock that was far below the surface of the city. A long table had been carved there at the room's making, with chairs untouched by the passage of time. There was only one way down there, and a full battalion of the elite royal guard patrolled the secret entrance that was only known to the greatest tarkaans of Calormen.

The tarkaans first passed under an immense stone archway. On it were carved images of Tash and the great blood sacrifices of old. Dried blood encrusted the indents in the archway, cursing anyone who passed under it without the permission of the Tisroc.

After passing the archway, the tarkaans walked down a great flight of stairs that had passages branching off into different directions, leading to various traps. A few ended abruptly — dropping out into chasms that were littered with sharp rocks and the bones of other intruders. Some passageways led to the dens of ferocious animals that gnawed on their past victims, longing to have their hunger satisfied, but only occasionally having that wish fulfilled. Others led to deaths too terrible to describe, but only one way led to the counsel chamber of old.

The tarkaans entered this passage, and before long came to the great counsel chamber where they took their appointed places. Then, the Tisroc entered, followed by two units of his secret order. They were clothed from head to toe in pitch black, with only a slit at the eyes. They were armed with two scimitars; one was about a foot and a half longer than the other. They also had short bows slung across their backs, and knives concealed in their boots. The Tisroc took his place at the table and began to speak.

The Tisroc spoke with a voice that grated like a sword being drawn across another. It had a dark tone to it that struck fear into the bravest of men.

"The time has come for our nation to ascend to its full greatness," the Tisroc said slowly. "The Witch in the land of Narnia has been overthrown. Narnia and Archenland are now safe to assault. I know that the passes between Archenland and us are well guarded, but this will not present a problem. At this very moment, my scouts are investigating the underground pass that I have found. They are almost sure it leads all the way through the mountain. Though, even if it doesn't, we can easily mine the rest of the way through. You all have five days to gather your armies west of the tombs outside of Tashbaan."

His very tone resonated with extreme hatred for the northerners. It was a tone that made it difficult to disobey, but one man who was braver than the rest stood and spoke out. His voice was one that most men would gladly follow to hell and back.

"Why should we assault Narnia and Archenland? We are at the height of our empire! Why can't we stay here and build our nation into a peaceful and prosperous one?"

The Tisroc turned to him with a glare on his face that set the bravest in the room to shaking, and then he made a small gesture with his right hand to the two guards who were standing before him. Two arrows pierced the heart of the man who had spoken out before the gesture had been completed.

"Does anyone else agree with him?" asked the Tisroc.

No one moved.

"Then assemble your armies. We march in five days, and may the curse of Tash be on anyone who does not have the full amount of troops or delays in any fashion. Forward for the glory of Tash! The barbarian dogs of the North will be destroyed, and Calormen will take its rightful place as the ruler of all!"

The Tisroc completed his instructions, and struck off the head of the one who had spoken out. Blood spilled onto the floor and splattered onto the tarkaans.

"This will make a nice addition to my collection," said the Tisroc. "Soon, very soon, the lands of Narnia and Archenland will be soaked in the blood of their own people."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Two days later in a passage deep under the mountains of Archenland_

Two Calormen scouts made their way cautiously through a dark shaft that had been carved into the mountain. The they were common soldiers each armed with a spear and a scimitar and dressed in Calormen mail. They were speaking in nervous tones to one another. One, whose name was Yemfon, was speaking to the other whose name was Queneth. The differences in the two were great. Although both had the same gear Queneth's gear was neat and polished as well as his armor. He carried himself with an air of nobility about him. Yemfon, on the other hand, was dirty. His armor and weapons were rusted and his clothes were ripped and dirty. He slunk as if he were afraid of some unknown danger that lurked in the dark passage way.

Yemfon said, "Why do I always get stuck with you whenever there is a dirty job to do." "If there are stables to be cleaned or swords to be polished or anything that no one else wants to do someone always says, "call Yemfon and Queneth they'll do it" and we always have to cause were the lowest rank of the scouts." "I'm tired of being pushed around and this pit is freaking me out!"

Queneth sighed deeply. Yemfon had a habit of complaining about everything and although they usually got stuck with bad jobs, but Yemfon's whining really drove him to the edge of his patience. He replied to the complaint with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Yes, I agree with you that we normally get to do the dirty jobs, but I think we should finish it." "The Tisroc, may he live forever, is coming soon and if he discovered that we had lied and slowed the pace of his armies…" "I shudder to think of what would befall us."

"The Tisroc is coming here!" said Yemfon in a frightened voice.

"Yes," said Queneth. "That is why we must finish this task." "I…"

Queneth's reply was cut short because at that moment a bone piercing howl rose from a wolf that was crotched on an overhanging rock. The howl rose from the wolf and echoed around the cave. The wolf leaped down from the rock and walked towards Yemfon and Queneth. Then to their amazement the wolf snarled in a voice that still sounded wolfish but that they could understand,

"What business do the sons of Adam have in the White Abyss?"

The two men were frozen in horror. Memory's raced through both of their heads. The rumors that had circulated among the Tisroc's army as soon as they had started north. Tales of demon possessed animals that could talk like men like men, but had dismissed them as fairy tales and now one of them stood right in front of them barring its teeth and growling menacingly. The wolf slunk forward pure hatred spilling from his eyes. As they looked on other shapes arose from the shadows.

A huge minotaur towered above the two frightened humans. His black hair was matted and dirty, but his weapons gleamed with excellent craftsmanship. A huge two handed sword was thrust into a scabbard on his back. He carried a huge axe that had evil runes and spells carved into it.

Several goblins, who had been scuttling across the walls, dropped from a crevice in the ceiling. They're skin was a molted black and brown and they're teeth showed through they're statistic grins.

Two black dwarves circled the two Calormens eyeing there armor and weapons with disgust. They're black beards tumbled down they're chest. They had short bows slung across they're backs and the held double bladed axes. Strange knives also were thrust into they're belts.

A number of wolves cut off their escape. The wolves fur looked as if it was originally gray, but it was stained with dirt. The wolves barred they're teeth at the humans showing the long, razor sharp teeth.

The Calormens were trapped!

Yemfon began "We are scouting to see if the tunnel…"

Queneth elbowed Yemfon and whispered to him, "If you tell them what we are doing the rage of the Tisroc may he live forever will be great and doubtless he can put you through more pain then these demons can."

Yemfon fell silent and the minotaur, seeing that he had been silenced shrieked in rage and slammed the butt of his axe into Queneth's temple knocking him senseless.

"Come with us," he motioned to Yemfon gruffly, "And we will teach you the true meaning of pain."

Yemfon followed. He shook like a leaf as the minotaur beat him forward. He looked back and saw that the goblins had long ropes with metal pieces that looked like huge, barbed fishhooks. The goblins lashed Queneth with these until the hooks stuck deep in his flesh and then pulled him a crossed the rocky floor.

They brought them to a small tunnel in the rock. It was well hidden in the rock and after they had entered a stone gate was slid into place from above. They upper levels had small slits in the rock to see through. It was the perfect hiding place. Although the place was dirty and bones littered the floor, but for all of the dirtiness the place the room was excellent craftsmanship. Even the untrained eyes of Yemfon could see that. The two Calormens were dragged down several flights of stairs into something that looked like a kind of barracks. Queneth, who was still being dragged by the goblins, suffered greatly from the treatment. Unable to move he repeatedly was slammed into the rock hard stairs and frequently would roll until he was jerked back by the goblins instruments. The fresh carcass of some kind of cave animal lay on the floor. It's bones were broken and its flesh was gone. Yemfon shuddered as he imagined the scene that had taken place here. Several levels above windows were carved into the rock so that the sentry could see if anyone passed the cave fortress.

After being taken down yet another flight of stairs they entered what seemed to be the dungeon and torture room. Chains hung from the walls and various tools of pain were laid out on tables. Whips, and clubs of various size and shape lined the walls, but what frightened Yemfon the most was a kind of table that was in the middle of the room. A metal table that was about the general type of a man had been placed over a pit in the ground. The pit had wood stacked to the brim and oil had been poured over it. One inch spikes protruded from the top of the table and wet blood pooled on the vicious looking device.

The goblins took the prisoners to the far corner of the room in which a large bit had been cut into the stone. Like the rest of the dungeon it lacked the craftsmanship that the upper levels had displayed. Yemfon was tossed down into a deep, rocky pit and Queneth was lowered in by the goblins.

The goblins then tore the metal of Yemfon's skin leaving his clothes torn and bloody and his chest in ribbons of torn flesh. He screamed in agony. Awaked by the brutal pain Queneth turned over. His chest felt as if it was on fire. He stayed awake only for a few seconds until he passed out from the pain in the ever-growing pool of his own blood. An iron grate was then placed over the entrance. Then the a huge stone was rolled over the entrance and utter darkness covered them. A fitting picture of the two prisoner's total disappear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_One day later_

Queneth woke up. His body began to drift back into reality. He groaned as he began to feel his head throbbing. The wounds that the goblins had inflicted on him stung with increasing agony. He would have preferred to have stayed oblivious to everything that was happening, but nothing could be done about that now so he began to examine his surroundings. He saw the jagged walls of rock reaching up for about twenty feet. They were cut off abruptly by a large rough stone that had been placed over an metal grate at the entrance to stop any escape that might be attempted.

His mind drifted back to his mother and father. They had been the descendents of the last king and queen of Narnia and their parents fled to Calormen to escape the White Witch and to live in exile. His parents had told him of the great lion Aslan, the son of The Emperor Over the Sea. These tales had never really had time to sink in for him though because while he was still young the army had torn him away from his family to become a soldier. His skin had been darkened by the sun almost to the color of the Calormens. His hair however was still the flashing blond it had always been.

Despite this he had thrown away the virtue of his parents while in the army and become as pagan as any solider in the Tisroc's armies. He regretted it now. He realized that Tash had never helped them win a battle no matter how many innocent were sacrificed on his bloody alter. It had been the cruelty of every man in the armies and their overwhelming numbers that had beat down any enemy that had ever opposed them.

He breathed a silent prayer to Aslan asking him for forgiveness for ignoring him for so long and for strength to endure through this trial. Then Yemfon remembered. He remembered what his mother had told him never to forget and what his father had told him to treasure. He remembered his Narnian name. Queneth was what he was called in the ranks of the Tisroc. But there was another. Then name his parents had bestowed upon him. He had never really forgotten it had always been in the back of his mind and he had finally unlocked the doors leading to it. "Kenth," he whispered to himself. He repeated it over and over again savoring the word in his mouth as if it was a morsel of delicious food suddenly he realized something was wrong. Yemfon was gone.

Yemfon had not had an easy time of it. A couple goblins had lashed him with the instruments that they had used to haul Yemfon to the pit to get him out. He was then brought before the minotaur. The beast stood tall next to the gruesome table that Yemfon had sighted before. The minotaur's face showed no emotion, but it was clear that he was anticipating at the pain that he was planning for this weak and cowardly human.

He growled to Yemfon, who was being restrained by the goblins, "Do you know what this is?" he gestured to the table that he stood by. Yemfon merely shrunk back from the huge beast and the cruel table. Do you know what this is!" the minotaur growled in a loud, harsh voice. Yemfon shook his head hesitantly.

"No," he said in a frightened voice.

A look of satisfaction crossed the minotaur's face. "Then you are lucky because if you knew what it was you would be begging for death right now." "You will first be lowered onto the spikes on the table. He gestured to the one inch, razor sharp spikes that protruded from the table. "Then we will set the logs below it ablaze." "The metal is engineered so that it will heat up very quickly." "The metal will be hot, but not too hot so that you will not suffer any permanent damage unless we choose to add more fuel." He spoke the last line so that Yemfon realized that it was a very real threat. "Would you like to escape this torture?" the minotaur asked. Yemfon nodded eagerly. "Then tell us why you're here!" the minotaur ordered. Yemfon slunk back as far as he could and shook his head. "As up wish," the minotaur growled.

The goblins then dropped Yemfon onto the table. They did this with more force then necessary so that the spikes would protrude they're full length into Yemfon's back. Yemfon screamed and pain, but still refuse to tell anything. He didn't give in because he was loyal to the Tisroc, but his fear of him kept his tongue in check. But then one of the black dwarves lit the wood below the table and the table began to turn from a dull grayish color to a glowing red. The spikes that had been sunk into Yemfon's flesh also began to glow with the heat and as his blood pooled at the bottom of the table the stench of burning flesh filled the room. He began to scream, but this time words slipped from his tongue.

"I'll tell you everything just let me off this cursed table." "I tell you everything!"

"Release him," the minotaur ordered.

Once again the goblins took out they're cruel instruments and began to drag Yemfon off of the table. He screamed as the sharp metal bit into his chest. Finally the goblins tore him from the table.

The minotaur approached the prisoner and asked again, "Why are you here." Yemfon simply rolled over on the rock floor screaming in agony. The minotaur kicked him viciously and Yemfon recoiled.

Then as the screaming lessened he began to whimper out all that he knew. "I am a solider in the Tisroc's army." "He wanted us to find a passage through the mountains so that we could successfully attack Narnia and Archenland." "The Tisroc himself is coming with all of his armies to take the northern countries." Yemfon fell quite.

The minotaur seeing that he would gain no more information ordered the goblins to take him back to the prison pit, He then turned to the fastest wolf under his command. "Remember all that you have heard from the human scum and tell it to the harpy at the next outpost. Tell him that my orders are for him to fly to the main cavern an tell Xateaz all that we have heard."

"To hear is to obey," the wolf responded. Then it dashed around the corner and out of site with such speed that it seemed to Yemfon that he could match and over take any of the Tisroc's finest horses.

As soon as the wolf set off Queneth was dragged back to the pit and thrown in with no gentleness what so ever. Kenth laid a comforting hand on his bloodied back and began to speak, but Queneth refusing to be comforted turned away and shouted back to him, "This all you fault you fool!" "This is all happening because of you." Yemfon then withdrew to sulk in silence.

Kenth whispered gently, "Yemfon there is something I need to tell you." but Yemfon shut out his quite voice and stayed silent as a misplaced, yet deep and burning of hatred of Kenth grew in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Twenty-Five miles along the southern mountain range of Archenland_

The wolf speed along the rocky terrain of the tunnel. His paws barely touched the ground as he dashed forward. Finally he noticed that he was drawing nearer to the next outpost. The tunnel began to lighten and as the wolf rounded the bend in the passage way he saw the source of the light. High in the mountains a kind of stone nest had been carved out of the rock. It jagged edges rose high into the air and bits of metal razor sharp metal were attached to the edges of the nest making it nearly impossible to attack from the outside. Bone littered the inside of the nest and the stench of rotting meat filled the air. There, in the middle of the nest gnawing the last bits of bloody meat off a bone. It was the largest of its kind and it's deformed head that seemed almost human yet to terrible to belong to one was turned towards the north. Its strange black hair whipped furiously by the wind and his bat like wings cast a menacing shadow. The wolf drew himself up and growled a greeting.

The harpy turned to look at him and the wolf began, "Our party captured two sons of Adam that belonged to the army of Calormen," the wolf snarled. "After a little bit of pain one of the weaklings told us everything he knew." "He said that their armies are preparing to march on Narnia and Archenland." "This message must be delivered to Xateaz with all possible speed by order of Vandzor."

The harpy didn't hesitate for a second before croaking out its reply, "I will tell her." The with a earsplitting scream the harpy dove into the sky heading for the mountains north of Archenland.

The wolf, his mission completed, laid down to wait for the return of the harpy and to feast on some unfinished game that it had left behind. With a jolt he realized it was a talking stag. He remembered being told over and over again when he was a cub to never eat another talking animal and that the anger of Aslan would come upon anyone who did, but he ignored the memories and sank his teeth in to the rotting carcass.

The cavern was filled with unspeakable things. Wolves prowled around on the floor while the harsh cries of harpies filled the air above. Minotaurs sharpened their axes and cyclopes hammered out their armor to perfection. The pickaxes of black dwarves shone as the hollowed out new tunnels and the blood chilling cries of hags filled the room as they chanted sorcery. Goblins climbed the walls filling the caves that had been gashed high in the cavern's walls. In fact all those who had been in the witches army had fled here. Little did Peter and his siblings know it, but the second wave of troops that the witch had held in reserve had suffered very few losses in the battle. All of them had fled the battle when their master, the White Witch had been killed by Aslan, but a certain hag had brought them together. She had enlisted the help of the goblins, who had for the most part, participated very little in the battle. The goblins, although on the witches side had sent very few of their number to aid her, but now in the caverns deep under the mountains thousands of goblins had waited for their chance to avenge their mistress. The hag had gathered the remnants of the Jadis's army and brought them to this very spot. The ancient city of the goblins. The black dwarves and the goblins had worked without rest to build a network of tunnels that encompassed the whole southern range that made up the border of Archland. They also stretched a crossed the mountains that made up the northern border of Archland and the southern border of Narnia. Tunnels had also been dug to connect these two ranges.

Who had made this impossible work possible? Who had restored the forces of evil to greatness? One who had learned from the queen herself the art of sorcery and black magic. It was towards her throne that had been cut into the rock that the harpy bearing the news from the south flew.

Xateaz was sitting in the hard rock throne. Cut into it were vile spells written in runes. She sat, hunched over a book of enchantments. Her a beaklike mouth protruded from her deformed face and wisp of white hair traced their way down her neck. She wore a dirty and torn cloak with hood that was flung over the back of it. Her elite werewolf guard crouched around her. The werewolves bodies were shaped like a wolf as well as their tails. But their limbs, although maintaining their wolf-like shape were stretched out of what a normal wolves limbs would have looked like. Allowing the werewolves to stand to about the height of a human, but also leap farther then a normal wolf could. They walked on their knuckles with their curved claws behind their foreleg.

Xateaz continued to study the ancient runes describing the making of some unknown dark sorcery. Her thoughts were interrupted by a harpy flying down screeching that it had an important message from the south.

The harpy landed in front of the throne its claws rending deep scratches into the stone floor. She turned her gnarled head to it and opened her beak and hissed at the harpy , "Tell me quickly what message you carry. I do not have time to waste!"

The harpy screeched, "My lady, the Calormens are preparing to attack Archenland and Narnia. Two prisoners were taken and tortured. They said that the Tisroc was preparing for an invasion through our tunnels!"

Xateaz screamed at the harpy in her shrill voice "Silence!" "Rest yourself, but be prepared to return to the southern mountains with a message."

The harpy turned away masking it despair at the impossible requirements of the hag. Then it flew to a ledge high in the cavern to rest its self for the return journey.

Xateaz's face was formed into a careful mask total control, but her mind raced. Determining how this information could assist her plan for the conquest of Narnia. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. She had discovered a book of black magic. It had been taken from Charn at the end of that world and had entered Narnia at its beginning. She had paid a terrible price to obtain its secretes and its greatest power was about to be unlocked for her. This spell, she pondered, would give her an advantage over the Narnians, but she knew that her victory could not be insured by her numbers even though they had nearly double the troops the Narnians had. She knew that they still had a slim chance of defeating her. This new information could, if incorporated correctly, could insure her victory over the Narnians. As she thought about the possibilities of the new advantage.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Cair Paravel_

Edmund was winning again! He had taken control of the center squares and was using that advantage to allow himself to penetrate Peter's battle line. Peter's brow furrowed in concentration. Then he saw an opening.

"Take that!" Peter exclaimed.

He moved his horse from its spot in front of his king and promptly knocked over and removed Edmund's rook.

Edmund just sat there with a knowing smile "You've taken my castle I see," he said in a calm tone that made Peter start looking for any error he had made.

Edmund just continued smiling and then moved a pawn into position. That simple move sealed Peter's doom.

"Checkmate!" Edmund shouted.

"What?" cried Peter.

"Checkmate actually means that I have maneuvered my pieces into a position that gives your king no escape. It can also refer to…" Edmund would have continued, but was cut off by Peter.

"I know what checkmate means," said Peter with an exasperated sigh. "What I don't understand is how you tricked me into putting my king in the position of jeopardy!"

"It was quite simple really," Edmund began. 'All I had to do was keep you from taking any of my pieces and take a couple of yours here the there. Then when you were getting desperate to take a piece I offered you a rook, which you took, but then left your king undefended. It was really quite simple."

By now Peter was red in the face and tapping his foot impatiently for at the very moment of his defeat Lucy and Susan had stumbled in and were laughing helplessly at Peter's defeat. Edmund, by now, was laughing too.

"Whatever happened to King Edmund the Just?" asked Peter with a sarcastic yet teasing tone.

"Well I think I was just," responded Edmund, "The one who deserved victory for his well planned strategy won."

At that the siblings burst into another fit of laughter. Even Peter could hardly help it. Then, putting on a mock severity he got up from his chair and walked to Edmunds side of the table.

"I'm going to get you for this!" he said suppressing a smile.

"We'll see about that," replied Edmund.

And then they were off. Running through the halls of Cair Paravel as their laughter resounded off the walls. Fauns watched happily as their monarchs played a game that seemed to be hide and go seek and tag combined. Sometimes the siblings would run into a talking animal and shouting their apologies as they resumed the chase. The talking animals did not mind. The fact that the siblings were having a good time wiped away any hard feelings. The subjects of the sibling monarchs could not have been happier. Times were peaceful and it seemed that the witches army had been successfully hunted down and destroyed. It was a time of peace and plenty and Narnia was once again the bountiful land that it had once been. It had been nearly two years since the defeat of the White Witch and her army and the torments of the long winter seemed to have been melted away by the recurring spring.

The siblings eventually found that their game had taken them outside of Cair Paravel and onto the beach. They collapsed onto the warm sand breathless and happy. Talking birds chirped out their beautiful songs. If you think a robin's song here is beautiful you could never dream of what a talking bird sounds like. Their song rose from the woods and drifted out to the shoreline. The recurring notes were kept on time by the thunderous crash of the waves on the shoreline.

Peter thanked Aslan once again for sending him here. Narnia was a wonderful land. It seemed that everything was better then it had been . The birds sang sweeter, the air smelled fresher, and the landscape was so wonderful it took his breath away. Peter turned to his siblings and suddenly an idea shot through his head.

"Flowerblossom," he called to one of the dryads accompanying them, would you be so kind as to have our lunch brought out to the beach.

"Of course you majesty," she replied. Then she floated off as if carried by a light breeze.

Lucy who had heard the conversation ran over to Peter and threw her arms around him as she cried out, "Really Peter? Really? Are we going to have a picnic on the beach?"

Smiling down and his exuberant little sister he replied, "Yes we are, but since I know you don't like picnics at all you can have yours back inside if you wish,"

"Ignoring Peter's response Lucy ran over the Susan and Edmund shouting at the top of her lungs, "We're going to have a picnic! We're going to have a picnic!" Over and over again until at last Susan told her to be quite and go wash up.

Their lunch was served shortly after. It was a wonderful lunch. There was loaves of freshly baked bread and fresh strawberries and blueberries. There was even some Narnian wine. Narnian wine is similar to juice in our own world, but it is much better then any juice you could purchase at the supermarket. It was so rich and all of the flavors blended is such a way that you felt that you could go on drinking until you burst. When the meal was finally over Peter laid down. His face was soaked by the sun's warm rays. The sand felt like the bed fit for a king. Suddenly a splash of water interrupted his quite rest. Lucy and Edmund sat there giggling while Susan, who was knee deep in water could hardly contain herself. Peter jumped up and promptly pushed Susan who stumbled and fell head first into the salty water. Lucy and Edmund joined in and soon they were all soaked from head to toe. They all climbed back up to the beach and began to walk back towards Cair Paravel to get some dry clothes on. The siblings were all smiles and their happy laughter filled the shore. Their present happiness would soon be cut short by the approaching evil from the south, but for now they were oblivious to all of this. Pure joy resonated from all of them as they began to run down the shore. Shoes had long ago been kicked off and sand flew in all directions as the siblings headed for home.


End file.
